As the Current Flows
by dreamoverdrive
Summary: Katara fics ranging from drabbles to longer chapters. Minimal relationships will involved as this will be focused on the powerful woman we know and love.
1. Family

**Prompt: Family**

**This will have no real plot sequence so it will be updated rather sporadically. It's also kind of a gathering place for all my katara week 2014 stuff as well.**

* * *

It was cold and dark- the two components of the night that inspired fear and discomfort. Wind whipped over the saddle in sharp sheets. It came without warning, tearing stands of hair out of her braid to tangle in her mouth and lash across her stinging cheeks. Her eyes watered and she kept reaching up to scrub the moisture away, becoming rougher and rougher as frustration built.

She couldn't make out the streak of land below when she leaned over the saddle. She couldn't make out the outline of her hand when she held it in front of her face. It was as though they were a single entity in a strange plane of nothing, flying nowhere in an all encompassing darkness that they kept hoping would break.

Katara had a lot of faith- but just not tonight.

With darkness around her there was nothing to distract from the steady flicker of memories behind her eyelids. Lucid blue against powdered snow that crumpled under her boots- _crunch crunch crunch-_and the kind of cold that heavy pelts and heavy hands on her shoulders dispelled. Harsh pale faces with shocks of hair like soot and thin lips the color of sliced open fish. Strange voices echoing in the thin air of the village- these voices were meant for humidity to muffle and soften the biting snap of consonants against teeth but they were here and Katara knew with every fiber of her being and every drop of marrow in her bones _they did not belong_.

She took in a shuddering gasp at a break in the wave and forced her eyes open to stare at the nothing in front of her face. The moisture at the edges of her eyes became more and more tangible and thick till it wasn't just irritation there. It was pain and frustration and sorrow and above all _loss_. An acute sense of emptiness in a place she had shrouded within herself for so long that it throbbed with triumph at her return.

A heavy drop was about to tumble down- she could feel the water there, ready to obey her fingertips but tears were the most uncontrollable liquid of all- when something cold and small clasped around her wrist.

She started and looked down and for the first time that night, she could see something. Small pale fingers and choppy nails closed over an invisible wrist and a small voice whispered into the air, "Katara, I'm scared."

Katara froze for a moment before she reached out, wrapping fingers in hair and pulling a head against her side. She slid an arm around small but sturdy shoulders and whispered back, "It's ok, Toph. You're safe."

And then suddenly another sensation, so familiar that she wanted to sob with nostalgia and thankfulness brushed over her other arm. It was the warm fabric of Sokka's glove and it pressed tentatively against her with a mix of embarrassment and denied loneliness.

"Katara, I miss…"

He couldn't finish whatever he had started to say because there was just too much to say. There were too many things he missed, too many things he wanted to put into words so he just settled next to her and laid his heavy head on her shoulder.

"I know, Sokka. Me too," she murmured back leaning her head against his.

They stayed like that for a few moments until the near soundless pads of footsteps over the saddle stopped in front of the little group. They could hear the whip and flutter of loose clothing and the words he was trying to think of so Katara said, "It's alright, Aang."

He settled down in between Katara and Toph, knowing that it wasn't alright. He wasn't alright, they weren't alright, the _world _wasn't alright. But here it was warm and soft with steady breathing and he could close his eyes and pretend.

Katara gently rubbed Toph's back and listened to the rumble of Sokka's and whisper of Aang's breath. It was cold and the wind was still sheeting. It was dark and her skin was still invisible. But she was here. She was feeling, she was hearing, she was touching. She was surrounded by a small group of scared kids that she was a part of and being a part of something resonated enough to remind her that she too was existing and breathing and being.

The warm press of skin and presence of other consciousnesses was enough that Katara could close her eyes and think _this is family. _


	2. Matriarch

**Prompt: Matriarch **

* * *

At the end of the union there was a silence that crackled like (far too familiar) lighting. Stares with the weight of the nation lay on the two rulers standing at the dais.

Never once had the fire lady worn _blue _at her wedding.

Never once had the fire lady possessed skin tinted away from creamy alabaster into something darker, something foreign.

Never once had the fire lady raised her face, blue eyes dark with thunderclouds, oceans, and the burden of the entire world she had labored under when she was only fourteen to meet the gazes directed at her.

She titled her chin and braided brown hair swayed as she gripped the hand of her husband. And she smiled.

* * *

The people whispered in market places, homes, and restaurants. Their voices hushed with discretion stemming from the old, nationalist part of them while they eyed their companion and the floor or table or wherever they could look to hide their eyes.

_She's a heathen. I hear she wears blue every day. I hear she water bends in public. I hear she spars with the fire lord. I hear she makes her own food. __**I hear that she can bend blood.**_

They whispered and the whispers spread like the slow crackle of flame throughout the country, eating away at foundations. When the fire lord and fire lady announced a tour of the nation to introduce the people to the new matriarch of the royal family, they felt a fierce discomfort.

_It's bad enough that she stays in the palace. Must he bring her out here for us to look at?_

They didn't know what they were expecting when she came. But it certainly wasn't what they saw.

They saw long, thick intricate braids done in styles they'd never seen before. They saw sleek blue robes with fine contours that seemed to blend rather than define the way fire nation fashions did. They saw silvery moons embroidered into sashes and hems. They saw high cheekbones and hands that moved with a kind of fluidity and rise rather than remain stationary and clasped behind her back.

But what shocked them all- what really made them stare- it was the _tenderness. _

Tender eyes, washing over their faces making _contact, _searching them out so she could smile down at them from the lacquered wood of her seat. They stared, suddenly drawn towards this soft figure so different and strange from the rigidity expected of their culture. It gave them a sudden desire for something they had never expected much of from a vicious heathen they'd all been told stories of- _attention._

* * *

It was mid October when the people realized their fire lady was a woman to be feared as well as loved.

She sat by her husband's side at the crowded garden party. Pandalilies were woven in her hair and her lips had been carefully painted red as tribute to the nation she presided over. She smiled benevolently at the clusters of people in both threadbare (but cleaned till pristine) tunics and the people in fine coats of rich colors that seemed to flicker in the pale but steady light of the fall sun.

She glanced over at her husband, his golden eyes meeting hers and hand slowly rubbing a small circle on the back of her hand. She'd opened her mouth to say something with a wry grin but then-

She heard the fire before she saw it or felt it. She had been surrounded by fire for the last five years of her life. It had been a constant pressure at the back of her mind, a warm heat spread over her skin and yes, it was comforting. Her husband's fire was invigorating, awing, and precious.

And yet part of her mind had never forgotten the time where the crackle and sizzle while it soaked up air to fuel itself meant _danger._

This was foreign fire. Foreign to her and her people and she could feel it in the racing blood in her veins.

She leapt up, arm making an arc and the tug of the pond water rising up to follow it. The pond scum was left in the muddy rut and the water gleamed as her body swayed, feeing the threat in the air rather than seeing it. There was a sharp explosion of sound as water and fire made contact in the air with a hiss that made teeth rattle.

She quickly whipped arms through the air, shaping water in sharp decisive motions. The vapor and water wound together in a lance and shot out to latch around a body. More fire spurted out feebly trying to resist the pressure of cold water and contrasting steam snaking over his limbs in a crushing grip. He cried out as he was slammed into one of the nearby trees, still draped in gold cloth for the festivities.

More fire flashed behind her and she drew one arm away from her prisoner, drawing water with a flick of her wrist from the grass to come up in a thin membrane just in time.

But it wasn't protecting her.

It was protecting her people.

They stood cowering while the benders crouched with palms extended behind the wavering outline of her shield. Fire distorted the view with bright tongues of flame that lapped against the red tinted dome. Katara felt protective fury that sent her fingers motioning daggers of ice towards the dark form channeling the flames.

Another flare and one more impatient slam of the first attacker into a tree freed a grip so that she could whip sheaves of ice with long windmill motions with one arm.

By that time, the other threats had been contained and the guards told her that she could release the web wrapped over the party guests. Zuko had a hand resting over her upper arm in his hot but gentle grip, raspy voice in her ear _it's ok, Katara. They're safe now. You saved them. You can let go. _

But the tension in her limbs didn't seem to fade and it was painful for her to leave the pale faces she had hated all those years ago unprotected, staring at her in a mixture of gratefulness, awe, and fear. She slowly let the sheet of water drift down and back into the pond, though she left some coiled up and down her arms like silvery snakes ready to strike if necessary.

Her eyes were drawn to where she had sent the ice and opaque red pools lay on the ground. She stopped her gaze from going any further, because she already had a good idea of what she would find. The disgust running through her at what she had wrought was nothing compared to the crashing relief- **we are safe.**

* * *

"Who were they?"

Zuko looked up at her, warm eyes gentle as he fitted his hand over hers, brushing fingers up and down knuckles. "They were paid off by rebel factions in the Earth Kingdom that are still bitter. The world hasn't been as quick to forgive the Fire Nation as you."

She leaned against his chest, nose muffled in his fire lord garb that smelled like parchment, spice, and sweet but sharp smoke. "I was scared for them, Zuko."

He rested his pointed chin on her head. "They saw that. It's already spreading all over how the fire lady went wild and single handedly took down about three terrorists." He paused. "They forgot mothers bite back when their wards are threatened."

Katara groaned. "I had enough of a time mothering three kids when I was younger. How am I going to handle this?"

He chuckled. "You're doing just fine."

Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "I know."


	3. Sacrifice

**Prompt: Sacrifice**

* * *

She stared at the thin line of silvery blue that wavered in its slow rise from the rough wooden bowl into the air. The water squirmed under her grip and it felt like she was trying to cling to the scaly tail of a shining fish. She watched it carefully, teeth digging into her bottom lip, eyes burrowing into the contours of the liquid-

"Katara!"

The water sloshed back down and she seethed as it dribbled out of the bowl. It was quickly absorbed into the snow and she felt something straining inside her when she whirled. "What is it, Sokka?!"

He watched her, blue eyes like her own narrowed. "Were you playing with the water again?"

"It's not playing," she gritted out, "It's our culture. It's our heritage."

"Our heritage is on a ship in the middle of fire nation seas and you playing with bowls of water is doing nothing to help them."

She let out a shriek of frustration and as she gestured furiously, ready to start a tirade that she was sure would convince her brother that if anyone had the right to tell her she wasn't doing enough- it wasn't him. At the arc of her arm through the air, ready to point an accusatory finger, her water rose and sliced in a whistling silver streak. A momentary impulse of shock registered as her body reacted for her, pulling the path of the flash away from the blurry outline of her brother's face. It flew off ten feet behind Sokka before it lost momentum and tumbled to the ground in a light spray. Her breath hitched.

Sokka turned to look at her in disbelief. "If that had-"

"I know," she whispered.

"If I had been one foot over it could have-"

"I know," she said louder to try and mask the voices already beginning to speak rapidly in her mind. "What did you come here for?"

He glared. "Gran gran needs your help."

And then he spun, boots crunching over snow to create another ragged path back to the village. She watched his messy wolf tail bob and remembered a time with long slender fingers had tied it up for him along with her hair loopies. She fingered the cold beads and sighed.

She stooped down to grab the bowl before heading back in his footsteps. She was too busy to bend again till next month.

* * *

Her muscles burned under chilled skin and she let out a low steady breath as she circled the man in front of her. He watched her, scornful and knowing. Blue eyes glinted coldly and thin lips curled up to pronounce the lines around his mouth. _Little girl, you don't stand a chance. _Silver hair swayed and his palms were pressed out, threatening to call water to launch with painful accuracy.

Every muscle that was longing to lock up into rigidity was forced into limber compliance. Fierce indignation thrummed in her temples, neck and wrists she thought _no, I really don't, do I?_

But that didn't stop the curl of her lip, the snap of her limbs or the battle cry let out with over-worked lungs. She'd throw her dignity away a thousand times over to prove to this man, to prove to the families and little girls with wide eyes and fingers clutching at their hoods that she would fight.

And that she would fight well.

* * *

The water cloaking her arms was growing warmer and warmer as it tangled with the red flame. Her eyes narrowed, the sharp outline of the form through all the flickering red barely visible. She gritted her teeth and swung back one watery limb to send it lashing forward when an unfamiliar shade of electric blue exploded in front of her.

The two fires melded together and pressed back against her. The heated air stung her cheeks as she tried to fortify her steadily steaming barrier. One last push from the two benders on the other side of the assault sent her backwards. Water sizzled away leaving Katara unprotected while she sailed with the sickening sense of uncontrolled flight.

Then there was harsh, jarring impact that started at the base of her spine. It left her mind a dazed blur that registered nothing but the sharp slice of green crystal under her palms. She realized that she had slumped down in the bed of shattered rock as the stone floor pressed up unyieldingly against her battered body.

_Get up, Katara, get up._

**No**, cried the plaintive part of her, aching and burnt all over. **Time to let go.**

But then she remembered the twelve year old boy up there in the blurry black and green mess, probably bent under the same barrage she had been under. Her fingernails sunk into stone as she searched for purchase. She pressed up and her knees shrieked when she rose unsteadily.

If she wouldn't fight for herself, she would fight for another.

* * *

The blade gleamed, hash and bright in the darkness. Motion seemed to slow and she saw the vibrating bodies, _felt _the vibrating bodies growing closer and closer. Panic was rising in her throat thick and cloying as it seeped into her brain.

The feeling of time slipping away from her was almost physically tangible and she wished fervently she could bend it back. But she couldn't and that dark tip looked positively wicked in the pale light of the moon that fed her power. Her core vibrated with the invigorating pull flooding through her veins but how could she use it to save them?

And then she knew, in that dark split second what she'd have to do. There was no time for the guilt, fear, or hesitation. Only a wry disbelief _my, my, Katara, what have you become-_

And her fingers were up and twitching. They coiled and hooked into claws as she searched for the beat behind soft flesh. She found the steady pump where liquid jolted through barriers. She felt the frenetic rush of the blood through veins and arteries and she felt the thick, foreign substance that she couldn't see responding to her fingertips with sinister reluctance.

She pressed down, swallowing her qualms and projecting iron will. _Obey me. I am your master. _

The movement in front of her halted suddenly but her mind was too occupied to really register it. The unruly liquid wanted to break free and continue on its natural path. The most terrifying part was that she didn't know what to do, where to send it, or how to stop it. If she cut off too much, the old woman (killer) would die but if she didn't cut off enough-

A haggard gasp choked out of an aged throat made Katara's eyes focus suddenly. Gnarled fingers scrabbled before they were directed on the path dictated to them by Katara's will. Pale blue eyes, like left over water frozen and suddenly melted stared up at her from thick leathery lines. They narrowed, vindictive satisfaction as the limbs were rent into submission.

Katara could only stare, the sound of voices in the background an indistinguishable roar. What had she given up this time?

* * *

Her mind was a whirl of a million things she couldn't identify as she gazed down at the hollowed face. Its eyes were illuminated by the stark light of fear and she saw herself, a lone figure in black, reflected in the murky brown depths.

The lines of the face had been etched and seared into her memory. She woke to the eyes in the middle of chilly nights, gazing down at her with brutal triumph masked by the controlled set of his over stretched lips. He watched her, daring her to try and fight back with the smug knowledge that this child would fold before him, as would her people.

She could fit the contours she'd replayed over and over again throughout the years on this man's face. And now it was her turn. Smug triumph rose in her while he lay sprawled in the mud under the threatening web of her element.

But more than the knowledge that she had bested this man was the burning resentment that coalesced into a hard ball in her chest. She'd replayed this moment over and over again and yet she never could have imagined what this scorching hatred felt like till in was there within her.

A sudden thought struck while her lips curled in disgust. _Perhaps this was what it was like to fire bend._

Fury rose in her directed at more than just the man who had stolen away the life and person she could have become. It was directed at the doubt, at the fear, and at the hesitance in herself. The web-crystallized into shards and she swept her arms sharply, sending them whistling down with a shout- _she would show them what kind of bender she was-_

But the wave of glittering ice halted inches from flesh. She stared, raked her eyes over the face of the man who had stolen more than she could ever imagine. That wasn't true, she had imagined it. Over and over and over again. She imagined it one more time as she decided.

No. The war wouldn't take this away from her. This she wouldn't be giving up without a fight.


	4. Blind Hope

**Prompt: Hope**

**I actually changed this prompt to blind hope in my mind oops. **

* * *

The darkness of night fell on the small clearing they were camped in. Soft feathery grass pressed against Katara where her sleeping roll didn't cover. She breathed in a cool breath, ready to drift off to sleep when-

"Katara."

She jumped when a small hand rested on her side. She had to blink the grogginess of near sleep away before she could hazily push herself up so that she was resting on her forearm.

"Toph?" she mumbled, squinting in the darkness at the pale figure.

"Katara," the voice hesitated and Katara sensed her glancing at the two boys snoring in tandem. There was a heavy pause and Katara stayed silent, knowing that if she spoke Toph would clam up. "Could you tell me what I look like?"

The words came out in a defiant rush and once they had been said, Toph tilted her chin up, daring Katara to find amusement. Katara gently rested her hand of Toph's small fist.

"Of course, Toph. I already told you that you're pretty, but I'd be happy to try and explain to you."

Toph didn't say anything so Katara pushed herself all the way up. "Have people described colors to you?"

"Yeah, but I don't get it."

Katara took a slow breath. "Ok," she said, reaching for her back that she had left beside roll. "Let's see if I can try."

She glanced up and studied Toph's face carefully. "All right, well your hair is black."

Toph snorted. "I know what black looks like, Sugar Queen."

"No, this is a different kind of black." She pulled a silk sash she had bought at the market place in an uncharacteristic spur of frivolity a few months ago. She grabbed Toph's hand and ran it up and down the smooth material. "It's soft with a kind of sheen to it."

"Sheen?"

"A kind of glow. It's mysterious."

Toph reached up to feel the end of her bangs. "Isn't it choppy?"

Katara reached for her pouch and drew out a thin line of water. She held her hands about six inches apart and began to make slow rhythmic motions with her fingers. The water responded and began to sway like an imitation of a wave. "Here, put your hand in this."

Toph hesitantly put her hand inside and Katara sped up the waves, slowly adding a bit of unpredictability to them. A slow smile slid over Toph's face. "I get it."

"Do you want me to describe your eyes?"

She nodded and pulled her hand out of the waves. Katara directed the water back to its pouch and reached inside her bag. She pulled out a smooth, rounded stone and pressed it into Toph's palm. "Have you ever bent jade before?"

Toph moved practiced fingers over the small rock. "No, but I can feel it."

"What does it feel like?"

Toph made a surprised sound. "It's strong. It's stronger than metal." She rubbed her thumb over the surface approvingly.

"People used to make weapons out of it."

Toph grinned. "What does it look like?"

"It's green, the color of life." Katara pulled some of the grass out of the ground and rubbed it up and down the backs of Toph's hand. Toph wrinkled her nose and Katara laughed. She slid up from her seat and walked over to the edge of the small clearing where she remembered seeing the small, pale white flowers while they camped. She uprooted a few and went back over to Toph.

She pressed the soft petals into Toph's hand and moved one gently over her cheek. "It's vibrant and full of life. Your eyes are like pale jade."

"Pale?"

"Like crystal." Toph's eyebrows knit and Katara tried again. She pulled some water out and froze it into a thin web. She pressed Toph's fingers against it and droplets immediately began to dribble down from the heat of her skin. "Like warm sunlight on ice."

Toph's eyes softened in a rare display of tenderness. "Wow," she breathed. She looked back up at Katara. "My eyes really look like this? You aren't just telling me that?"

Katara reached out and squeezed Toph's shoulder. "You tell me. You can feel if I'm lying, can't you?"

Katara watched Toph smother a smile. "You're not lying."

From the other side of camp, Sokka snorted in his sleep. Katara and Toph jumped at the sudden sound and looked at each other with amusement. Toph's sightless gaze on Katara's face used to make her uncomfortable, but now she knew it was just another part of the earth bender to treasure. Like a facet on rock.

Toph stood slowly. "Do you think we could do this again some time?" Her voice was hesitant and unused to being so vulnerable but she held herself with firm pride.

"Whenever you want to."

Toph smiled. "Thank you, Katara."


	5. Hope

**Prompt: Hope**

**Alright I did two for this prompt. I JUST HAVE LOTS OF FEELINGS. **

* * *

She found Sokka hunched down a ways away from the village. His wolftail bobbed and his arms were clasped tightly around his legs so he could bury his face his knees. She moved over to the figure in blue amid all the white and lowered herself down with a crunch on the snow beside him.

His head snapped up and his messy tear tracked face was vigorously being scrubbed by two gloves. "I'm not crying," he snapped fiercely.

"I know," she said neutrally. But she rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed softly.

His face wavered again in the harsh set of its denial. There was fury there. Fury at the man who had stolen his mother, fury at the father who had stolen himself away, and fury at himself for the weakness he wasn't supposed to be feeling. He watched Katara with pained eyes. "Katara, what if he doesn't come home?"

His voice hung in the still cold air. She watched him and her mind turned. What could she say? She couldn't guarantee him because that would just sound like a flat lie and he'd be hurting all over again.

She gave him a small smile and reached out. He hesitated and let himself be wrapped up in her arms. "We're going to be ok, Sokka."

"How do you know," he choked, his head burrowing into the warm fabric of her coat.

"Just keep your faith in him."

"I don't have any faith left," he whispered.

She squeezed him tightly. "Then start hoping."

* * *

When Katara stared at the crackling yellow paper, reading over the long faded ink, she felt something blossoming in her chest. Her eyes devoured the forms, tracing over the limbs and the small blue jets of water being projected from them.

Her fingers clenched and she felt the water around her with a new, bright clarity. This scroll had restored something in her that she'd given away time and time again till there was nearly none left for her.

When Katara glanced back at the young girls, small tanned faces dwarfed by the white and blue hoods, she felt something in her break. Their wide blue eyes watched her with rapt attention and she saw something there in the vague childish depths that made her heart race even harder. Their hair loopies swayed as they clutched the hands of their mothers, but their gazes didn't waver and Katara felt their weight like the gentle flow of water over her skin.

She spun back to face the sharp figure of the man and her hands moved up in front of her face in preparation to fight. The ice that had held her feet in place to let her redirect the wave of water melted as she tensed to retaliate.

"_You can't knock me down."_

* * *

The small sturdy girl tilted her chin up in defiance and her black hair brushed the bright pink pained on her cheeks. The darker hue on her eyelids made the color of her pale eyes more pronounced even as she narrowed them. Small tracks of tears slid down from the corners while they hardened, denying herself the sting of petty wounds.

She sniffed at the end of Katara's encouragement, still determined not to care and Katara felt herself falter. Because caring about something as trivial as looks was just that- trivial, but it wasn't something that should be denied to anyone, especially Toph.

She rested a hand on the small sturdy shoulder and finished, "I know it doesn't matter... But you're really pretty."

Unseeing eyes softened as they looked up to rove over her face. "Really?"

Katara smiled and squeezed the shoulder before patting it and letting go. "Yeah. You are."

* * *

Katara was wide awake, clenching Appa's leads in her hands while her teeth ground out a painful beat. Playing over and over again in her memory was the harsh stare of murky brown eyes, dark with a sick kind of triumph. Knowing that she'd soon be face to face with this man and staring into these same eyes unleashed a myriad of fierce feelings within her- fury, vengefulness, hatred, anticipation, and the sickening one she denied herself, _uncertainty. _

She felt a weight settle down beside her and glanced over to look at Zuko. His shaggy hair blew in the wind as he stared straight ahead, resting one arm on a propped up knee.

"Are you ok?"

She slid him a withering look and he put his arms up in defense. "Just asking."

She turned forward again and he tried one more time. "Is there anything you want to talk about? Get off your chest?"

"The last time we had a heart to heart it ended with you and your sister killing Aang," she said in a brittle voice.

He flinched. "I'm so sorry." The words were said lowly and quietly. They held a certain kind of defeat in them because he knew that no matter how many times he repeated them and no matter how many times he begged to be sent back to that place to change what he had done, it would never happen.

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. His golden eyes connected with hers.

"In that cave…" He faded off and she just watched. He seemed to realize that this was his once chance to convince her with the full weight of her attention on him so he hurried on. "In that cave you gave me something really precious, Katara. Before that I'd spent a lot of my time wishing for something to happen or change without really knowing what I was wishing for. I guess it was a second chance, but when you gave me one I didn't recognize it. I guess that I had kind of resigned myself to kicking and clawing my way through the rest of life. I hadn't given up, but I wasn't exactly trying my hardest to get out either. You showed me a way out, but I didn't realize how much I needed one."

His fingers reached up to feel the ridges of his scar and she found her own hand reaching out as well. It rested on the mottled red skin and he stiffened, his eyes growing intense before he slowly relaxed. "You gave me hope, Katara," he whispered.

* * *

Aang sat stiffly on the shore, and she knew something was wrong. His body was usually so loose, so in sync with the environment around it that when it looked tensed like this it felt as though something in the world was off.

She moved over beside him and lowered herself into the damp sand. The gentle lap of waves before her tugged at her consciousness as she meditated with him. Eventually, she heard a quiet voice say, "Katara I'm afraid."

She turned to face him and uncharacteristically dark eyes stared out unseeingly at the sea. "I don't want to kill him," he whispered. "I can't do it."

She reached out and pulled him in to her so that his head was resting in the crook of her neck. He shivered and she murmured, "It's going to be ok, Aang."

"No it won't, Katara! How can you say things like that when you don't know?"

He pulled back to look at her, his eyes watering as he scrubbed at them impatiently. He looked up at her for answers. _Why did this happen? Why am I here like this? Why is the most important act I will do in my life the one thing I can't go through with?_

"I say things like that because I have hope. We'll be ok, Aang. We just have to keep going one step at a time."

He leaned back into her and as she gently rubbed his back she couldn't help but feel awed at the way such an insubstantial thing had carried her so far.


	6. Long Live the Queen

**Prompt: Queen Katara**

* * *

Many found Katara intimidating.

Outfitted in plain clothes of cerulean, her profile from behind was nearly ordinary. It if weren't for the graceful posture that spoke of fluidity, one might almost be able to believe she were normal. That she hadn't been dragged through hell and back and that she hadn't toiled with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

But when one saw her face, all illusions of normalcy were abandoned. The lucid gleam in her bright eyes that betrayed her struggle, her work, and her **victory**- it couldn't be hidden. The proud way she titled her chin up, even with the simple hair loops hanging over her cheeks, she was positively _regal_.

When she returned to her home tribe and the men began to reassume their positions, their first inclination was to pay no attention to the young daughter of their chief. After, all she was female. Shouldn't she be knitting, or sewing, or making some kind of food? So what if she could bend?

When she walked into that hall, holding herself rigid to approach the long table, they stared. She rested a palm on the cold wood. "Why was I excluded from this meeting?" she asked in a deceptively calm voice. "I believe that I have a right to be here."

The men glanced at each other, teeth glinting in tanned faces at this girl's nerve. "Katara," one began, "You're not even of age. Why don't you go help your grandmother-"

The ice making up the building suddenly creaked sharply and they watched with startled unease as the walls shuddered around them. She smiled icily and for the first time, the men felt uncertain. "You believe that I have no right to be here because I'm young and female, no?"

"Yes," one of them began impatiently. "That is-"

The very air seemed to freeze as she chilled the vapor there and everyone felt as if they were breathing ice. "I traveled with the Avatar. I taught him how to bend water myself. I journeyed through the earth kingdom, serving this tribe and the world as an advocate for the resistance against the fire nation. I worked with the Earth King himself, planning our first assault. I toured the fire nation during the midst of the war, searching for a way to teach our only hope how to bend to element most opposite from our culture and my upbringing. I fought with the current fire lord himself and against his sister. When he joined us, I helped him overthrow the next tyrant that would have crushed us under her heel. I have been instrumental in bringing about this peace that you all have been enjoying."

She paused and no one spoke. Her father's eyes shone with pride at the end of the table. "Furthermore, I am a Master Waterbender which none of you can claim to be. I earned my skills despite the sexist barriers put up by men like you. You will either respect me or challenge me." The building creaked one more time as the ice tightened with a sharp crackle. She surveyed their slack jawed faces with daring. "What will it be?"

There was a long drawn out pause before Sokka shouted from the end of the table, "Long live the Queen!"

The words were said to lighten the atmosphere but when one of the men solemnly repeated them, their weight grew. More and more deep voices were added till soon the words had all the power and momentum of a water whip. Soon the walls were shaking for a reason entirely besides her bending and she felt a kind of warm heat blossoming in her chest that made her stand even taller.

The men watched her with new respect and even as the chant faded out, one motioned for a chair to be brought. She sat at the head of the table.


	7. Queen Katara

**Prompt: Queen Katara**

* * *

Many of the children had never seen a water bender before.

In their small, impoverished villagers, they were familiar with the style and power of earth bending. They were also familiar with heat, the scorching blaze that had stolen homes, dolls, and lives- that was fire bending. The idea of someone bending water, manipulating it- well, it may be pretty but how could someone fight with bending like that? More importantly, what purpose would it serve?

When the strange woman had walked into their village, they stared openly. They were too hungry, too beaten down, and too abused to be judged for something as simple as staring. If this woman showed herself as a threat, lashing out at the young children with harsh words and heavy blows like the other foreigners had, well then they would stop. Till then, they were content to let their eyes rove over the strange pale blue of her clothing and intricate braids.

When her eyes lit upon them- what a strange color for eyes to be, was it even _real_- she knelt down in the street so she was gazing across to them at their level. They stiffened because this was most certainly new. She beckoned and they watched warily, like an animal deciding whether a meal was worth the beating it would receive afterwards.

One brave girl decided to go first. Her name was Ji Liang and both her parents had been killed in the war. Her pale face was grimy, her hair stingy and tangled, and she had fierce brown eyes that gazed out to challenge whoever was next to shove her down or shoo her away.

She drew up to the woman who had lowered herself down into a near squat. She reached in her dangling satchel and pulled out a brown package, silently holding it out with a calm blue gaze. The girl glared, unsure what game this was. Outstretched hands were usually fists or flat and open to deliver a stinging slap. She reached out and snatched the package and scurried back to the other side of the street. The other dark haired girls and boys formed a barrier around her while sharp eyes glanced over to make the woman wouldn't come and take whatever she had given back.

Small fingers unfolded the cheap fabric and there was a collective gasp at what lay inside. There were salted strips of meat and dried pieces of dull orange and red fruit leather; small packets of pale nuts and dark shriveled and preserved berries.

One of the younger girls was so overwhelmed she began to cry softly. They were so engrossed that they didn't notice when the woman had come to stand beside them. "I have one for all of you."

They were too stunned to start and skitter and they just looked up. "Please," a girl whispered. It was a long disused word because they had long since realized that asking meant fury because no one had anything to give and the guilt at the small pale face translated to wrath at something the children hadn't caused.

She worked in the village, purifying water supplies and bending water back into failing crops. The people had been distrustful initially, because what kind of luck had the other newcomers brought? A few of the bitter ones spat at her in the streets and catcalled _heathen _at her from behind corners.

But when they saw her washing the grime off the faces of orphans that no one else could afford to help, they decided she wasn't that bad. When the drought came and she bent crystal water up from the muddy river no one had used for drinking from in generations, they decided she could be useful. When she saved their crops and didn't demand a share from the profit, they decided she was generous. When she went through the village, healing old festering burns and stubborn diseases, they decided that she was the best thing that could have possibly happened to the village at this particular time.

She stayed in the grimy hotel and there were always young girls and boys in her room. They saw on the dirt floor while her fingers led trails and webs of glowing water over the skin of her newest patient. She told them stories of a bright eyed boy and his love for everything and everyone, a girl that fought with fans and war paint, another boy with scars all up and down his soul and a surprisingly awkward personality. The kids asked for more and she told them of the great strategist and inventor that snored loud enough to make tents shake. Their favorite stories to hear were the about painted lady in gauzy veils and curling red paint.

When it was time for her to go and move on to the next village, the people pressed callused palms together at the gateway and bowed. They bent their sun-browned backs as low as they could, giving her the respect one would give a monarch.


End file.
